


April Showers Bring...

by ZoeBug



Series: JeanMarco Week 2015 [4]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Canon Era, Drabble, Fluff and Angst, Fluff with a canon-compliant (read: sad) ending, JeanMarco Week, M/M, and lots of analogies about plant life and weather, but what else is new with me?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-03
Updated: 2015-07-03
Packaged: 2018-04-06 19:00:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4233135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZoeBug/pseuds/ZoeBug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Fuckin' hate the rain," Jean growls. </p><p>"It's not that bad." Turning his head, he finds his best friend's face is almost completely hidden by his raised hood.</p><p>"How in the hell is this "not that bad?"" Jean demands bitterly. "Even <em>you</em> couldn't find a silver lining in this hell."  Marco turns to him, freckles nearly swallowed by the flush of exertion and chill of the rain.</p><p>"Well," Marco muses, "it's- ah, how does the saying go?"</p><p>--</p><p>Written for JeanMarco Week 2015 - Day 6: Raindrops</p>
            </blockquote>





	April Showers Bring...

**Author's Note:**

> Written for JeanMarco Week 2015 - Day 6: Raindrops

The first time he hears the phrase, he's nine years old.

It's absolutely pouring outside.

Jean sits at the kitchen table as the rain thunders against the roof of his house, chin gloomily in his hands as his feet swing restlessly beneath the chair.

His mother is cooking something across the small kitchen and he watches her boredly as she darts to and fro, chopping vegetables and plopping various things into the pot simmering on the stove.

Jean huffs loudly.

"What's wrong, Jeanbo?" his mother asks without turning to him.

"I'm _bored_!" Jean whines with a sigh. His mother only laughs.

"Why don't you help me cook? Or go draw?" she suggests. Jean rolls his eyes.

"I wanted to go _outside,_ " he replies bitterly.

"Well, it's raining so it looks like that's off the table. I'm not getting mud tracked all over this house." Jean purses his lips.

"Lame," he mutters. "Rain's stupid. First it was too cold, now it's too wet."

"Rain is good, Jean," his mother replies warmly, dropping a handful of chopped rabbit into the simmering stew with a soft _plop_.

"How?"

"Things need it to grow." Jean rolls his eyes again. He drops his arms to the tabletop and buries his face in them. "April showers bring May flowers."

"Whatever," Jean mutters and his mother laughs.

 

 

Jean's heard the phrase often by the time he's fifteen.

He hates the rain even more than he used to as a child. Because even though it's raining, the fact seems to matter little to Keith Shadis. Training stops for nothing.

So instead of being cooped up in a house, Jean's legs burn as he pulls his boots upward with every step against the sucking mud along the trail.

His cloak does nothing but absorb the rain, now a pressing and clammy blanket hanging around his shoulders.

Everything about him seems to absorb water. His cloak, his pack, his hair, even his _skin_ seems to be saturated down to his bones at this point. He's trying to keep his heavy breathing quiet because he'd rather suffer in silence than let _Jaeger_ know he's winded.

He hears Shadis shouting at someone behind him further down the line, but can't make out the words under the thundering downpour. Probably Armin, Jean figures. He kind of feels sorry for the small boy. The damp cloak and pack probably weigh as much as the kid himself.

Scowling, he hefts his pack's straps higher on his shoulders and curses softly.

"Fuckin' hate the rain," he growls.

He hears a laugh beside him, winded and weary yet still bright.

"It's not that bad." Turning his head, he finds his best friend's face is almost completely hidden by his raised hood, blurred through the drops collected on Jean's eyelashes when he tilts his head upwards.

"How in the hell is this "not that bad?"" Jean demands bitterly. "Even _you_ couldn't find a silver lining in this hell."

Marco turns to him, freckles nearly swallowed by the flush of exertion and chill of the rain.

"Well," Marco muses, a weary smile still somehow spreading across his face, "it's- ah, how does the saying go? April showers bring May flowers?"

Jean doesn't reply, only purses his lips and turns back forward.

 

 

"Thought you said May was the flowers bit," Jean drawls tiredly, sprawled in his bunk, the humid heat nearly stifling. "As in "not the showers.""

He's been thinking about the phrase a lot recently. Mostly because of the bitterness he's been harboring that it's nearly the end of May and it's been raining for almost three weeks straight.

Marco laughs quietly from where he's sitting with his legs hanging off the edge of the bunk across from Jean. He's shirtless and damp with sweat in the muggy, stagnant air of the barracks.

"It's a saying, not a weather report."

"Yeah, well," Jean mutters but lacks the energy to add anything else. He rolls over onto his stomach and groans. "Ugh, it's so _fucking_ hot in here."

Marco nods sympathetically in the corner of his eye.

"Kirschtein, shut _up._ " Eren's voice comes from a few beds down, annoyed but too tired to hold any of his usual confrontational fire.

"Go to Hell, Jaeger," Jean mutters back with the same weary emptiness. Marco snickers. Jean looks over at him and groans. "Have I mentioned how much I _hate_ rain? Makes it muggy as hell."

"Hopefully it'll clear up sometime soon," Marco says softly, somehow miraculously free of the bitter moodiness of the rest of the trainees lately.

"God, I hope so. I don't know about you but I prefer to _drink_  water rather than inhale it." Marco laughs.

"That and I can't wait for the flowers to bloom. With this much rain there'll probably be just _fields_ of them." The grin Marco gives him makes the annoyed furrow of Jean's forehead loosen a bit. "Armin told me he read pansies grow well in this area of Rose. I bet it'll be amazing."

"Why're you excited about that, Marco?" Eren's weary voice comes again. "If you wanna see a pansy, all you gotta do is- _ghrk_! Okay, _fuck you,_ Kirschtein!"

Jean flops back against his bunk as his boot clatters back to the floor after glancing off Eren's arm and sighs tiredly.

He rolls his eyes as Eren mumbles a stream of curses but doesn't make any move to climb down from his bunk.

He hears Marco laughing and makes a note to sketch the first flower he sees when it stops raining.

 

 

"But the grass is still wet," Jean grouses, nose scrunched as Marco drops his backpack down to the dewy grass in the forest clearing.

"Well, it's a good thing I brought a blanket then, isn’t it?"

Jean just rolls his eyes and starts unpacking his own load as Marco shakes out the blanket and lays it out over the ground.

It isn't until they're both stretched out on the blanket, loaf of bread and handful of cherry tomatoes on dishes between their knees, Marco passing him the thermos of tea that it occurs to Jean.

"Dude, is this a picnic?"

Marco cocks his head to the side, considering for a moment.

"I guess it is."

"Isn't that kinda gay?" Marco's eyebrows raise in amusement before barking out a loud laugh and nearly knocking over the bowl of tomatoes. "Jesus, what?" Jean demands.

"Just enjoy the impromptu picnic, dummy," Marco laughs, punching him lightly on the arm. Jean nearly spills the thermos of tea.

The sky is still a bleak grey, the air still damp, but the clear weather has managed to hold for more than a few hours so they take what they can get.

Marco has laid back against the blanket, on his side with one hand propping up his head.

"Seen any flowers yet?" he asks distantly.

"Nah, not yet," Jean replies, listening to the leaves dripping onto the forest floor beyond them. "Probably drowned with all the _goddamn_ rain we had."

"Mmm, flowers are more resilient than you think." Jean turns to look at Marco, who slides his eyes from the trees a ways away and back to Jean. "Humans? Way fragile. We drown easy. But flowers? I think they've got it figured out. They've learned to like the rain. Cause it helps them grow."

Jean holds Marco's gaze for just a beat too long before looking away to take another gulp of tea.

 

 

The summer Marco dies is the driest it's been in years.

Grass crunches beneath boots, leaves sag listlessly on trees, and there's not a wildflower to be found.

Jean knows because he's looked. Everywhere.

After three days, Armin quietly tells him he should stop.

"I just wanted to put some on his grave," is all Jean can rasp in reply, hunched inwards and trembling. "But I can't- I can't find-"

It's sunny for two weeks straight. Bright and warm and perfect outside.

Jean hates it.

He sits staring out the window at the cheery sunshine and silently tallies up everything he would give for it to start raining.

**Author's Note:**

> [fanfic/podfic blog](http://zoe-bug.tumblr.com/) | [personal](http://xiexiecaptain.tumblr.com/) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/xiexiecaptain)


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